Cold
by Professor Wolfie
Summary: Steve's risked his life so many times, Natasha just doesn't understand, after confronting him, she learns the heart wrenching truth; That Steve has never really stopped being cold.


**This is the third time I've posted this, but this time its different, it was originally a songfic to the song Cold - Five Finger Death Punch, great song btw, check it out, but the last two times I have been threatened by workers on this site because of copyright infringement, and was told I would be kicked off if I didn't take it down, Well, I have taken the song lyrics out and realized its still just as depressing. Enjoy!**

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He was so infuriating. Always putting his life on the line without any thought of the cost or the affect it would have on others if he died. She loved him; god she loved him. And every damn time he got hurt, it hurt her. He always said, 'I'm just doing what needs to be done.'

But that's such a damn lie. It's not always necessary for him to almost die in order to save someone else or to stop someone … it was so frustrating to her because she could never be that good, and the only good in her came out because of him.

Natasha knew what she was. She was evil, a killer, and a deadly weapon. But with Steve … she felt … good.

That's why during a mission, when he was shot a good five times while trying to protect a Strike Team member, she had a mental break down. It drove her insane when he did stuff like that. Not that she had much room to talk. She risked her life a lot and did a lot of stupid things on missions that worried and pissed off Steve, too. But it didn't matter if she died. Assassins live in the dark and die in the dark. But if he died … it would seriously matter.

Today she was going to find out why he did things like that. He was going to tell her the truth, and they both needed to face it.

Slowly, she walked through the hallways of the SHIELD hospital looking for room 304. She saw it. The door was open, and she leaned against the doorframe and watched him for a moment. His eyes were closed and he was murmuring something, probably a prayer. Slowly she walked into the room, closing the door behind her. She noticed his eyes opened quickly and he was instantly alert. She calmly sat in the chair next to his bed. "How are you feeling?" She asked quietly.

"Better," he replied just as quietly. She couldn't help but notice how tired he looked. The man never got tired. It was like he was tired of something, rather than being physically tired. It made him look old and angry and she didn't like it.

"You didn't need to do what you did back there," she stated in frustration.

"Yes I did. I was just doing what needed to be done," he said stubbornly.

"That's bullshit," she snapped out. "You and I both know that," she hissed.

"We're not having this conversation," he attempted to push her away.

"Oh yes we are! What the hell is wrong with you Rogers?! You could have died!" She yelled at him.

"So?" he said growing angry.

What is wrong with this man? Doesn't he know that if he dies, an entire country will mourn, the entire SHIELD organization will mourn, his friends will mourn, and she will mourn? How does he not understand that? "So!? Are you kidding me!? Do you even know what your death would cause? Pain! That's the only outcome!" She yelled.

"Stop yelling at me," he growled.

"No! I won't stop! This is messed up Rogers! I'd expect this from the other Avengers, but not from you! Stop denying the fact that you don't care about your own life! Look at yourself! You're in this damn bed after every fucking mission and you don't even care!"

"Because I'm super human! I'll be fine!"

"No you won't! You're not invincible and you can bleed like the rest of us. One day, you're going to get hurt, and you're going to die! Rogers, let that sink in! You're going to die!"

"Well it's my choice!" He finally yelled back.

The room went completely silent, save for the beeps of the monitors hooked up to his body. They stared at each other angrily. Natasha's forest green eyes were full of anger, frustration, and worry while Steve's baby blue eyes were filled with anger and anguish. His jaw clenched and he glared at her. Slowly, her gaze softened and she faintly shook her head. Finally, she asked, "Why do you have so little regard for your own life?"

It was such a simple question, with such a sad answer. He now had people who loved and cared about him, and he loved and cared about them too. But he still felt empty sometimes – no, almost all the time. He was so angry, and he didn't understand why. He had no reason to be angry; he had a good life now, with good friends. Forgetting about the past is all he wanted to do, but he couldn't – he can't. He stared intently at her, his angry gaze dropping to just plain sadness. With glassy eyes, he answered quietly, "Because I lost everyone I love in one day. Maybe I want to join them."

Any bit of anger and frustration on her face disappeared. That's why he always put his life on the line. Because all he really wanted was to be with the ones he loved. She just sat there looking at him with sad eyes, "I shouldn't have asked; I'm sorry," she muttered.

"No you're not," he deadpanned quietly and then turned his head away, staring out the window.

They sat there in silence. The air thick and heavy with the remaining tension of their argument and the horrifying answer Captain America gave for putting his life on the line. Natasha never thought words could be so powerful. She always thought punches and kicks had the most power. But the words he spoke … they felt like a bullet.

It raised so many questions. Was Captain America depressed? Does he really want to die? How can she help him? Was he suicidal? So many questions with absolutely no answers…

Natasha remembered when they were on the run together, hiding from SHIELD. She remembered the bunker in Camp Leigh, and the pictures on the wall of people he knew. Now she understood why he reacted the way he did when she asked about the women in the picture. After ten minutes of heavy silence between the two, Natasha asked, "Do you ever think about her? The girl in the picture, down in that bunker."

He muttered as a tear slipped down his face, "Only all the time."


End file.
